Revenge to Extract
by Master Of One
Summary: [Jack&William Chronicles][repost]William (Bootstrap) Turner is a bit fed up with his cabinmate's pranks. What crazy scheme will he come up with to punish Jack Sparrow for his latest escapade? Please R&R! [mild JackWilliam "Bootstrap"]


LINER NOTES:  
  
THANKS TO: My best friend Alicia, whose input has seriously aided this story, my plot reader Janey, and my AWESOME betas: Cass, Lexie, and Kate! Thanks my girls! In addition I must thank Sandy, my final beta, though betaing is only part of the support she offers – she doesn't know how much of this was written just for her. Actually she might, seeing as how she was the one who challenged me to write a fic, but . . . anyway.  
  
ARCHIVING: Just ask so I know where my stuff is going, OK? Thanks.  
  
NAVIGATIONAL NOTES: The gunwales are the sides of the ship on a ship with deck cannons. (At least that's the information I have.) Lines are the ropes that are used to control sails and that make up the rigging.  
  
DISCLAIMERS: rolls eyes I can't believe I still have to put this in here . . . Yes, I now own many more magazine clippings and my mother is letting me paint a Captain Jack mural on my wall, but I don't actually OWN Pirates of the Caribbean, SAVVY?? The only characters I own in this story are Sadie and Captain Norrington (No, not the one from the movie, a different one, honestly).  
  
Also, I borrowed from Oneiriad, another fanfiction.net writer. She reviewed this story when it was still in rough form (READ: my adult beta hadn't got it back to me yet, but I had several folks who wanted to read it so I just said to Peck with it and posted it) and informed me that her email to me was commandeered somewhere along the way, so yes, I do have permission to borrow the quote that I used. Thanks Oneiriad!  
  
AND THE PLOT BUNNY GOES TO: While reading one of my favorite authors (that would be L.M.Griffin) I discovered that one of her friends pointed out something interesting to her: the INSPIRATION for stories is rarely, if ever, credited. I want to start doing that as I think it's a great idea. So: the inspirations for "Revenge to Extract" are:  
  
William Shakespeare  
  
L.M.Griffin's "The Matter of Rules" (the full arc)  
  
The Hound of the Baskervilles  
  
Oneiriad's "Falling into Heaven, Falling into Hell"  
  
My Ma  
  
SERIES NOTE: This is the second POSTED story in The Jack&William Chronicles. They are a series of oneshots posted in no particular order, simply being written as I get the inspiration for them.  
  
THE SERIES CURRENTLY INCLUDES (Chronologically)  
  
Revenge to Extract  
  
Mutiny Dreams  
  
RATED FOR: VERY mild cross-dressing, mild language, implications of a future male/male relationship.  
  
William Turner crept across the deck toward his cabin mate, Jack Sparrow, grinning like a cat approaching a surefire mouse. Of course, he could have been shooting a musket at Jack's head and the bloody boy would never have noticed with his nose buried in that book. William was bored, terribly bored, and having completed the duties assigned to him, he was now looking for bait. That bait came in the form of Jack Sparrow, sitting against the gunwales with a book in his hands, utterly rapt.  
  
William's thoughts continued to ramble as he took the long way round to where Jack was sitting, -- just for the fun of it -- and then stopped about 10 feet away to study him.  
  
Jack was eight years younger than him, but not near as much of a pretty boy as when he'd joined the crew 3 years earlier. Of course Jack'd been only eleven then.  
  
William moved forward again, and bent over to study his friend's face. Large brown eyes opened wide, taking in each word upon the printed page as though they contained all the secrets of life and death.... Jack was so intent upon his reading that his sunburnt, wind-chapped lips moved, silently forming the syllables of an intricate dance of words that formed the story. His bottom lip was bruised, and William remembered Jack's tumble to the deck several days before. Heart-stopping at the time, certainly, but somewhat humorous in memory. Who would have guessed that this boy, who looked every inch the seasoned sailor – browned skin, muscled arms and legs, and a perpetual sun-squint – would get fifteen feet into the lines, look down, and faint?  
  
William wanted a reaction. The strange relationship he and Jack shared was based, mainly, upon reactions -- and he had revenge to extract. So, after several minutes of calm deliberation (and a few more moments to wonder in awe at the fact that Jack had yet to notice his shadow -- unobservant little whelp when his nose was stuck in a book), he chose the most direct route, and plopped himself down quite squarely in Jack's lap. Jack squawked, and the magic of the spellbound boy reading in the sun vanished abruptly as they rolled onto the deck in a scuffle.  
  
Jack's book flew from his hand and tumbled down the ladder-stair to the hold; the pair of boy-men rolled on the deck, scratching and clawing like they were fighting in the dirt instead of on hard wooden planking. Jack had agility on his side, but William had size, weight, and surprise on his, and so finally he pinned Jack to the deck, grinning like a Cheshire cat.  
  
"It has come to my attention," he stated, in an uncanny imitation of Captain Norrington's son James, "that upon entering our cabin last night, dear Jack, I was most thoroughly drenched with a bucket of water. Now, how did that happen to get above our door, I wonder? And what should I be doing about this grievous state of affairs?"  
  
Jack's struggles for liberty had not ceased, and he paused only long enough to pant, "You can't beat me!"  
  
William smirked. "Why not?"  
  
"Because I'm younger!"  
  
William sighed and sat up. Jack's logic spun circles around everyone else to the point that William had found himself apologizing in the past to Jack, when Jack was really the one to blame for something. So now he, William, would catch the upper hand.  
  
"You're right."  
  
"Ha!" Jack stuck his tongue out. Immature idiot, William thought affectionately.  
  
Suddenly William's grin turned wicked. "But you've forgotten one very important thing, mate."  
  
Jack asked the question silently with the tilt of his head and the look in his eyes.  
  
"I'm Bootstrap Bill Turner. I can do whatever I want."  
  
And he shoved Jack back down on the deck, where they both started laughing like young boys will when they are having fun in the sunshine. Finally collapsing from a lack of oxygen caused by laughing just a bit too hard, William rolled over to allow Jack to sit up. In spite of a rather bad bang on the back of the head from where he'd been pushed back down into the deck, and a couple small scratches on his cheek, Jack's dark eyes were shining with good humor. Both sat for several minutes, simply collecting themselves, and then William moved on to part two of his revenge plan.  
  
"Say, Jack, do you know how to dance?" he inquired, fully aware that Jack knew nothing of the sort. It was Jack's ignorance that had inspired this particular scheme.  
  
"DANCE? You mean, like with a GIRL? All . . ." Jack made a wide motion with his hands that seemed to imply swishing gowns and fine wine. "Gosh, no. Why would I? And . . . wait, why do you care if I can dance?"  
  
"Because I'm bored."  
  
Jack's eyes narrowed. "And?"  
  
William jumped quickly to his feet, dragging Jack with him. "Come on, I'll teach you how to dance."  
  
"I -- don't -- William -- no --"  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because we're on deck in the middle of the day!"  
  
"So?" He wouldn't let Jack win this time. "So, all right, if I'm the girl and --"  
  
"If you WHAT??"  
  
"Well it's not like there are any girls on this ship, unless you want to get Sadie out of the hold." Sadie was a ship's cat and William had the feeling (in fact he was quite certain) she wouldn't make a particularly satisfactory dancing instructor.  
  
Jack sighed and resigned himself to having William place his, Jack's, hands first around William's neck ("No, that's not right . . ."), then on his back, (more muttering), and finally there was a triumphant "AH!" as he remembered what he was doing and put Jack's hands firmly on his waist.  
  
"Now I hold your shoulders . . . wait, only I need one on your back, too, if we're waltzing and everyone knows how to waltz. It's bad form not to. Now take a step backward. With your left foot."  
  
Jack did, and promptly tripped over an uncoiled line sitting on the deck, sending them both tumbling into a tangle of ropes When they had finally untangled themselves several minutes later, William sat up, grinned, plucked a loop of line from around his neck (after pretending to hang himself with a low growl of "Arrrr, me hearties, be warned," and a laugh), and admonished Jack thoroughly. "Can't you stay on your own two feet for even a second? I'd hate to see you with a bottle of rum."  
  
Jack shuddered. "Ugh."  
  
William grinned. He didn't think rum was too bad. Jack just hadn't really ever had any good rum. The only time he'd gotten truly, gloriously drunk, William had played a trick on him. And in fact, he didn't think that was too bad of a thing, Jack not liking rum. The boy could hardly stand straight when he was cold sober and wide awake. "So, let's try this again." They shuffled back into their starting positions.  
  
"Now what?"  
  
"Left foot, Jack."  
  
"Oh, right."  
  
After several minutes of "left foot back, right foot back, now step right, now step forward," Jack had picked up the basic steps and they moved easily in the corridor.  
  
Until James – James, who had the "I've got a stick up my arse" persona down to a science and who would really do better in the Navy, James whose green eyes never failed to pick up on mischief – showed up. Everyone on the ship was used to William's crazed behavior – he'd even been known to sneak off the ship by dressing as a woman when he'd been assigned a job he didn't want. But Jack? There was only one possible explanation for this strange performance – hanging out with William had finally cracked the poor boy's brain. James doubled over with laughter, dropping the trunk of women's clothing from their latest raid that he'd been carrying. What Jack didn't know was that this was all part of William's plan, and though James had known the part he was to play in it, he hadn't known he'd be walking up to a 'dancing' couple of boys, one of whom was only two years younger than himself, a good deal smaller, and a constant scapegoat for the younger members of the crew, who loved playing pranks on each other. Still cackling, he plopped a sunbonnet on Jack's head, provoking a "hey!"  
  
Jack pulled the bonnet out of his eyes and tried, unsuccessfully, to chase after James. William grabbed his arm, swirled him back around and grabbed his waist.  
  
"So, shall we try again?" he inquired, that roguish smirk still intact.  
  
"Not a chance in bloody Cain, William! You made a fool out of me!"  
  
"Playing fair is turned around, Jack. Wait, that's not right." William tried to recover the adage from the lost bottoms of his brain as Jack gave him a scathing look and turned on his heel, retrieving his book from the bottom of the ladder-stair, and stalking off -- to the cabin they shared, perhaps, or some dusty place in the holds where he could read in peace.  
  
William suddenly felt a sense of deep regret for disturbing the boy, and wondered vaguely why he wished Jack'd said yes . . . 


End file.
